When Words Fail
by Not A Ghost3
Summary: Collection of unrelated E/C one-shots based off of various songs. Does not contain song-fic chapters.
1. Always

_Always_

_If there are times _  
_You find that you are feeling weak _  
_Lie next to me _  
_I'll hold you 'till you fall asleep _  
_At anytime of day _  
_There's nothing to explain _  
_I'm always on your side_

_Hold on to me _  
_I'll steal you from the hardest day _  
_Don't be afraid _  
_You have me here to guide your way _  
_Through storms I will be here _  
_I will not disappear _  
_Always by your side_

- Always, Scott Alan

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or the song Always.**

**Hope you enjoy, leave a review if you did!**

* * *

Night cannot get any darker, they say. But tonight, that statement has proven itself false. This night was not darker by color, but for other reasons entirely.

"The Princess grasped the spinning wheel in front of her as the evil witch cackled. The Princess slowly sank to the ground as the witch's poison sank in." Erik sat by the fireplace, reading Christine her favorite fairy-tale.

Christine yawned and knocked the book out of her husband's hand, on to the floor.

"Christine, that was rude. You're the one who wanted to hear the fairy tale." Erik scolded her. She simply climbed into his lap and laid her head on his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Christine gently asked. Erik quickly whipped his head in the opposite direction.

"There is nothing wrong with me, what would make you say that?" Erik snapped back.

"You're not yourself. Normally, your stories are full of life, but tonight-"

"Tonight there is nothing wrong with Erik, and he expects you to believe that."

The two of them sat there in silence as the fire crackled and popped.

"Where did you go this morning?" Christine whispered into Erik's ear.

He looked down at her and pressed his lips to her forehead as he thought.

"That is none of Christine's business." He softly replied.

"Yes it is. You could be seeing someone else for all I know!" She sat up.

"Christine, I would never do such a thing."

"Then where did you go? I deserve to know."

"Rouen."

"Rouen? Why did you go there?"

Erik did not answer her this time. Christine slowly crept off of his lap to rekindle the fire. She gazed up towards the mantel, and caught her reflection in one of the pictures. She smiled at the thought of when it was taken. She had finally saved up enough money to purchase him a new invention called a camera as a surprise gift one year, and he had insisted that she would be the first subject for him to take a picture of. It took longer than she thought, but Erik finally finished the photo and framed it so that it could be placed on the mantel. And so, there that picture has sat for the last seven years, greeting anyone who came into their living room.

"My mother, Christine, that is why." Erik shyly said.

Christine turned around at the sound of her husband's voice, not expecting him to answer her question.

"But, I thought..." Christine's voice faded as she saw the look on Erik's face. Through all of the scars and mangled flesh, she saw that his face was full of worry.

"You thought what?" Erik stood up.

"I thought you didn't like your mother."

"I don't."

"Oh." Christine looked down at her feet, "Why did you visit her?"

"She is ill." Erik stiffly told her.

"How do you know?"

Erik walked closer to his wife and stared straight into her blue eyes.

"Have you ever had a feeling, where you know something has happened without having any prior information?" Erik hesitantly explained.

Christine nodded her head of curls, awaiting the rest of the story.

"I woke up this morning, knowing something was wrong. Knowing that something was utterly wrong. I left without waking you up, thinking that I would be mistaken, and I would return before you realized I was gone."

"But you weren't." Christine interrupted.

"No, I wasn't." He sighed before explaining the rest of the story.

* * *

_Flashback _

**EPOV**

I found myself standing in front of my mother's house. _My_ old house. I haven't been here since I was six years old. It hadn't changed a bit. It was still painted yellow and little red roses grew up the sides of the porch. I walked up to the front door, and it was unlocked. I opened it and quietly entered inside. I was met with the large wooden stairs that I was never allowed to step on. I paused as I thought about going up, deciding that I'm grown now, I can touch them if I want.

One by one, I climbed them to the top. I reached the hallway and was about to venture into my old room, when I heard it. Ragged breaths that I knew belonged to my mother, echoed throughout the house. I faced the entrance of her room, with the door standing wide open.

"_You_." She spat.

Her green eyes stared at me, as if they could see straight through me.

"Mother." I stiffly greeted her.

My mother's hair had turned from an elegant black, into a shade of white that could compete with the snow of winter. I timidly walked towards her as she continued to stare at me.

"You... you're alive? Or are you here to take me to the other side?" She quivered under the sheets of her bed.

"Of course I'm alive, mother."

"But, I haven't seen you since you ran away..." She paused, trying to think of a name.

"My name is Erik." My voice quickly filled the silence.

"Erik? But, your face."

"What about my face?" I cut her off.

"My son's face was deformed. My son is a monster!"

"Your son's face _is_ deformed, and he _was_ a monster. Surely you haven't forgotten how you made a mask out of a rag for me. Well, one can not walk around his entire life with a cloth over his face, so I made this," I pointed to my flesh mask, "so that I could look like the rest of the people in this world, mother." I explained.

She signaled for me to come closer to her, but I took a step back.

"Please, I haven't seen you in decades, please come near me." My mother pleaded.

I took a shaky step forward and allowed her to grab my gloved hands. She looked up at me before placing a kiss to my hand.

"Mother?" I barely got out.

My mother had never touched me before, much less kissed me. I dropped to my knees in awe.

"Erik, I've grown old and ill, I don't have much time left, will you tell me what I missed?" She begged. "I missed my son's childhood."

"My childhood was spent traveling around with gypsies, mother. I was tortured and put on display. You didn't miss much." I told her under my breath. She gripped my hand tighter.

"You've been living with gypsies all this time?" She gasped.

"No. I escaped them when I was fifteen. However, by the time I was seventeen, I was the head assassin for the Shah of Persia. These hands that you just kissed have built kingdoms and contraptions meant to torture, performed magic tricks beyond logic, and have murdered both the guilty and the innocent."

"You came all the way from Persia to visit me?"

"My journey did not stop at Persia, mother. After that, I traveled the world. I found a job as an architect for a new Opera house that was being built in Paris, so I built my own kingdom five cellars below the main Opera house. That's when I met _her_."

"Her?"

"My wife." I would spare her the details of the complicated relationship we had to endure, but I wouldn't hold back any of my joy.

"A woman learned to put up with you?"

"Love me, mother. She loves me."

I reached into the small pocket of my jacket and pulled out the small photo of Christine that I carried around with me.

"This is Christine. She's been mine for eleven years."

"The singer from Paris, but the papers said that she was kidnapped by the Opera Ghost!" Her emotions quickly changed as the realization hit her.

"You're the Phantom of the Opera." Her eyes widened at the thought. I shook my head and answered.

"Erik _was_ the Opera Ghost."

She took a deep breath as her face turned deathly pale. She coughed and coughed until blood began to rise from her mouth.

"Mother?" I asked.

I snatched a cloth that she had lying on her nightstand and soaked up the blood that was running down her chin.

"I must be going." I whispered. I watched as she swallowed back some of the blood and reached out for me one more time.

"I love you, Erik, I missed you." She mumbled, the words barely audible. I felt tears bubble up and flow out of my eyes when I heard her words.

"I love you too, mother." I choked out, I squeezed her hand before walking out of the room. I turned to look at her one last time, then I left the old house, never to return.

_End of flashback_

* * *

"Erik, you should have told me. I wouldn't have yelled at you earlier, I'm so sorry." Christine whimpered. She then pulled Erik to her and hugged him as tight as she could.

"Christine, it's my fault, I should have told you this morning." Erik blamed himself.

"No. I should have trusted you." Christine told him as she felt her husbands tears on the back of her neck.

"Christine, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't ever disappear."

"I won't. I'm here for you, always."

* * *

"Erik, the paper came." Christine called from the kitchen.

Erik quietly sneaked behind her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which quickly turned into a kiss, full on the lips. When they broke apart, Erik's smile faltered at Christine's expression.

"What happened?" Erik asked.

She opened up the Époque and pointed to a small article in the corner of the back page.

"That's her, isn't it." Christine sadly asked for Erik's confirmation. He snatched the paper from her hands and read the article over and over again.

_Elizabeth Guaraldi was found dead in her home by a close neighbor last night. A funeral will be held Sunday evening at the local chapel. There are no surviving family members._

"I was just there yesterday, I don't, I don't understand." Erik pinched the bridge of his nose, holding back tears.

He jerked the paper from the table and threw it into the fireplace.

"What should I care." He huffed.

Christine silently made her way over to him and wrapped her arms around him. She looked up with understanding eyes at Erik before sighing and pressing her forehead into his back.

"You told me that you didn't like your mother, now I know why." Christine whispered. Erik spun around to face her and awaited her answer.

"You love her. Even if she didn't love you at one point, you have always loved her." Christine said.

Erik let a few of his tears float down his face, and into her golden curls.

"I do love her." He finally admitted. Christine nodded her head and held him tighter. "But I love you more." Erik continued.

"I love you, most." Christine told him, and sealed the statement with a kiss.

* * *

**The End.**


	2. Kiss the Girl

_Kiss the Girl_

_There you see her_  
_Sitting there across the way_  
_She don't got a lot to say_  
_But there's something about her_  
_And you don't know why_  
_But you're dying to try_  
_You wanna kiss the girl._

_Yes, you want her_  
_Look at her, you know you do_  
_It's possible she wants you too_  
_There's one way to ask her_  
_It don't take a word, not a single word_  
_Go on and kiss the girl._

- Kiss the Girl, The Little Mermaid

**Thank you so much for reviewing, following and favoriting! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or the song Kiss the Girl.**

**Hope you enjoy, if you do leave a review!**

* * *

"Christine, drink your tea, it will help." Erik ordered Christine.

Christine had strained her voice earlier trying to hit a top G, and Erik had banned her from talking, or singing, for the rest of the day. She pushed the cup away from her and pouted her lips, still mad at him for keeping her trapped in his underground house.

"Erik-" She croaked.

"Shhh!" Erik quickly covered her mouth with his hand. "Do not talk."

Hours flew by until it was almost seven in the evening. Erik rose from his seat by the fire and walked over to where Christine sat on the divan, reading a book. He peeked over her shoulder to see that she was reading a book by one of his favorite authors: Victor Hugo.

"Notre-Dame de Paris?" Erik questioned Christine's taste in reading.

She raised her head and gave a curt nod before going back to her reading.

"Are you hungry?" Erik asked her. She shook her head.

"Tired?" He asked again. He got the same answer.

"Bored?" He asked her.

Christine slammed her book shut and stood up.

"Yes." She whispered.

Erik held up his hand, signaling for her to stop. She crossed her arms over her chest and stood there. Erik looked at her, thinking of a plan. Then, it hit him.

"Would you like to go on a boat ride?" He asked with the all of the shyness of a schoolboy.

Christine's face lit up at this offer, and her head of curls nodded frantically. Erik held out his hand and Christine happily took it. He led her to the shore of his lake and pulled up the boat. Christine yanked his hand, causing him to look back at her.

"Outside." She mouthed.

Erik, willing to make her as happy as possible, led her to the Rue Scribe, and opened the gate.

"Will the Seine suit you?" Erik asked.

Christine nodded, glad that she had talked him into bringing her out into the late spring weather. Erik flagged down a cab, and paid the driver to take them to the Seine river.

When they arrived, Erik helped Christine out and sent the driver away. Hardly anyone was on the river, but there was an unoccupied boat sitting on the shore. Erik made his way over to the row boat, with Christine trailing behind him.

"Get in." Erik told her.

Christine obeyed and hopped into the boat as Erik pushed it into the water. Erik slipped into the boat as it started to sail into the river.

"You look beautiful, Christine." Erik complimented her.

Christine blushed and looked down at her lap. She was wearing a long, blue gown that matched the color of her eyes, with white lace accenting different parts of the dress. Christine knew that this was Erik's favorite of all of her dresses, which is why she wore it more often than her others. Her golden hair was swept back into a loose pile of curls on the back of her head.

The setting sun shone brightly on the two of them as they rowed along. Erik nervously looked around, expecting stares from other people, but there was no one there to stare at them. He smiled at this realization, and looked at the girl across from him.

_She looks so beautiful_, he thought, _the opposite of me_. He rowed a little slower than normal so that he could prolong the moment when they would be forced back inside. Christine ran her hand across the black water, careful not to put it in too deep.

_Kiss her you fool,_ Erik's thoughts bugged him.

"No!" He yelled out, causing Christine to almost fall out of the boat. He grabbed her and held on to her until she regained her balance.

"I'm sorry." He muttered.

Christine continued to look at him with increasing curiosity. She leaned closer to him and put her hand on his. Erik glanced down at her touch.

"I'm fine." Erik assured her.

Time passed on as the sky grew darker. Christine yawned and gazed up at the brightly shining moon.

_Does she want me to? No, an angel like her wouldn't want a monster to contaminate her with a kiss. But perhaps - no. Christine surely doesn't want me to kiss her._ He considered.

_Do it, coward_. His mind echoed.

He leaned in closer and Christine mimicked his actions, but he pulled back when he felt the boat hit the side of a large rock. He maneuvered the boat out of harms way and their silent journey continued. Erik gently rowed along the river, building up his courage.

"Christine?" He timidly asked.

Her head whipped around to him and she smiled. Erik's courage faltered, and he bit his lip.

"Never mind." Erik sighed.

The game went on for the two of them, each time the chances increased. Erik leaned in close to Christine and almost brushed his lips against hers, when the boat was shook by an unexpected current. Christine lost her balance and tumbled out of the boat with a splash.

"Christine!" Erik shouted.

He reached down and pulled her up just as quickly as she had fallen in. He wrapped his waistcoat around her and pulled her into his lap.

"Are you alright?" He frantically asked as he checked her for injuries, she nodded.

"Sure?" He said again, same answer.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her into a hug. Christine tapped his shoulder and he looked down at her. She smiled and placed her lips on his. He pulled back and looked at her oddly, but she just ripped his mask off and threw it into the river.

"Christine!" He gasped, she placed her finger over his lips.

"No words." She rasped. Once again, they were lost in each other with the simplicity and urgent rush of a kiss.

* * *

**The End**


	3. Feel Again

_Feel Again_

_It's been a long time coming since I've seen your face_  
_I've been everywhere and back trying to replace_  
_Everything that I broke 'til my feet went numb_  
_Praying like a fool just shy of a gun_

_Heart still beating but it's not working_  
_It's like a hundred thousand voices that just can't sing_  
_I reached out trying to love but I feel nothing_  
_Oh, my heart is numb_

_But with you_  
_(I'm feeling better ever since you know me)_  
_I feel again_  
_(I was a lonely soul but that's the old me)_  
_Yeah, with you_  
_(I'm feeling better ever since you know me)_  
_I can feel again_

- Feel Again, OneRepublic

**Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following, guys!**

**Disclaimer:I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or the song Feel Again.**

**Hope you enjoy, review if you did!**

* * *

"What constellation is that, Christine?" Erik quizzed the beautiful blonde sitting next to him.

"Orion?" Christine answered.

"Correct. You're getting much better at this." Erik praised her.

"I have the best teacher."

The night grew colder as they sat gazing at the stars. Erik slipped a kiss behind Christine's ear and ran his hand across her chest. She giggled and laid her head in his lap.

"That's quite the seductive move, my dear husband." Christine lightly scolded him. He shrugged and continued to pepper her face with kisses.

"Stop." Christine said, Erik ignored her.

"Why should I? You make my heart feel again." Erik protested.

"Stop." She repeated.

Erik stopped and looked at her, upset that she had convinced him to stop.

"Shouldn't we move this inside?" Christine suggested.

"That is very wise of Christine." Erik replied.

He helped her up and they walked up to their small house in the outskirts of Brittany.

"How do you do it?" Erik asked once they were inside and the door was closed.

"Do what?" Christine asked.

"My heart has never worked, but you make it beat again." He explained.

"You have the same effect on me, I'm afraid."

"I'm serious, Christine."

"I'm serious, too."

"It's been six years since I found you again and you married me, yet you never cease to amaze me."

Christine stretched up on her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Do I still amaze you?"

"Without a doubt."

* * *

_Flashback_

Paris is the city of love people say, but for Christine it was the city of heartbreak. She had been thrown out of the de Chagny estate a week ago with no where to go. Today she shuffled her way through the crowded streets of Paris, trying to get her thoughts in order.

"Madame, are you lost?" A foreign voice sounded in Christine's ears. She spun around at the noise and caught sight of a red hat. The man gasped when he realized who it was.

"I am so sorry, Mademoiselle Daaé, I didn't know it was you." He apologized while taking a small bow.

"Pardon?" Christine, confused, asked.

"I am Nadir Kahn." He introduced himself.

"Oh! You were the man in the torture chamber! That whole ordeal was all my fault."

"Do not blame yourself, the monster thinks only of himself."

"Don't ever call him a monster! He is an angel." She raged.

Christine slowly calmed herself down as the Persian helped her over to a bench. They sat down and Nadir handed her a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat.

"There is no need for tears." He told her.

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it." She sniffed.

"Why aren't you with the Vicomte, preparing for your wedding?"

"There is no wedding. They banned me from the house a week ago."

"How come?"

"They told me I had gone mad."

"Why would they think that?"

"I believe I see _him_ everywhere. When I would turn a corner, he would be there, or just now I thought I saw him cross the street. I would dream about him at night, and at meals he would be all that I talked about. Am I going mad, Monsieur Kahn?"

Nadir thought for a moment before answering, "That is a matter of opinion."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Nadir cleared his throat and began to stand.

"I wish I could stay longer, but I must be going." He tipped his hat and left.

Christine's watched him leave, feeling the one strip of hope she had, disappear with him. She steadied herself and stood up, observing the crowd. She started across the street when she heard a voice shouting at her. She turned to see who was calling, when she spotted a carriage coming straight at her. She froze in place, but two arms wrapped around her and carried her to the other side of the street before it could hit her. He set her down and Christine dropped to her knees.

"Thank you, Monsieur, I owe you my life." She thanked the stranger.

The man bent down to her level and brushed the curls out of her face. Christine blinked, recognizing the man.

"Erik!" Christine said his name as if it was a breath of fresh air.

Erik reached down and helped her up and Christine pulled him into a hug.

"I knew I wasn't going mad." She smiled.

"I have searched for you high and low, Christine." Erik told her.

"Take me with you, please." She cried into his chest.

"Your boy-"

"Raoul means nothing."

"What do you mean?"

"I will explain it all to you later, just take me away from here."

"Will you at least give me a clue as to why you left?"

"His servants are very superstitious, they claimed I was going mad."

"My Christine, mad?" He let out a short laugh and held out his arm, which Christine gladly took.

"I've wandered all over this city looking for you, I even tried to break into your lair." Christine admitted.

"I never left you, Christine. I am wherever you are."

She smiled and closed her eyes, relieved that she was in the arms of the only person who could make her feel whole again.

"Come, I know just the place." And with that, the two walked off, ready to start anew.

* * *

**The End**


	4. Wide Awake

_Wide Awake_

_I wish I knew then, what I know now_  
_Wouldn't dive in, wouldn't bow down._  
_Gravity hurts, you made it so sweet_  
_Till I woke up on_  
_On the concrete!_

- Wide Awake, Katy Perry

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**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or the song Wide Awake.**

**Hope you enjoy, review if you did!**

* * *

"Christine, our fates are in your hands." Raoul informed Christine, who was sitting in the managers' office.

Both of the managers, the Prima Donna, and Raoul were in the room, awaiting her response. But, _he_ was there also. She could not see him, but she could sense him.

"I- I," Christine stammered.

She bundled up the skirt of her dress, and fled from the room. Once she was in her room, she slammed her door shut and locked it.

"What have I done?" She groaned as she slid down onto the floor.

Everyday, for the last six months of her life, she had poured her soul into two very different men. One had captured her heart with sweet words and caresses; while the other gave her music that only they can understand, yet, he was a fraud.

She picked herself up, and trudged over to her mirror.

"Open it, Erik!" She ordered, but the mirror remained silent and unmoving.

Christine kicked the mirror and pounded her fists against it, attempting to trigger the springs that opened it.

"I know you are there!" She yelled. Her little fists punched the mirror, until it slowly slid open. Christine fell into Erik's arms with tears.

"Shhh." Erik carried her over to the wooden rocking chair he had made her.

"What have I gotten myself into?" Christine cried as they sat down.

Erik rocked her back and forth, waiting for the tears to subdue. Once she had calmed herself, she could think clearly.

"It's your fault." She gasped.

"What?" Erik asked.

"I wouldn't be in this mess if you hadn't given the managers your opera!" She exclaimed.

"I don't think it would have made a difference on your behalf." Erik said, holding back his temper.

"True, the opera wouldn't have made a difference, but you still do." She as she stood up. "You tricked me, Erik! If you hadn't introduced yourself as an angel, none of this would have ever happened."

"So you're saying that you never wished to have met me?" Erik rose from the chair.

"No-"

"Then tell me, Christine, who was that little girl, sitting in a chapel, crying her precious little heart out, and asking for an angel?" Erik snapped back.

"That was me."

"You? No, you must not be that little girl, because she pleaded for an angel. She-"

"But you aren't an angel! You never were!"

"I can be."

Erik pulled out of his coat pocket a knife. He handed it to Christine.

"Since you don't need me any longer, how about just do away with me? That way, perhaps, I could be a real angel for you."

"Why would you want me to kill you?" She shrieked.

"Because, Christine wants an angel. Christine needs an angel."

"No, I can't."

Erik snatched the knife from her hand, and held it up to his chest.

"If you won't do it, I will." He started to apply pressure, but Christine knocked it out of his hands before he could injure himself.

"Christine did want an angel, but she _needs_ an Erik." Christine told him.

She dived in and gave him a hug that sent sparks through Erik's body. Never had she given him a hug.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking." Erik apologized as he held Christine closer to him.

"Christine, we can run away from all of this." Erik suggested.

"But, there is far too many loose ends here." Christine reminded him.

"Then let's leave them hanging. Tonight, after the opera, we can run away."

"But Raoul-"

Erik quickly held up his hand to stop her, and abruptly stopped her protest.

"Don't mention that name. Tonight you will be mine, and we can leave all of this chaos behind us."

"You think it will work?"

"Of course."

Christine sighed and fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt. Erik realized what she was doing and removed her hands from his chest.

"Tonight, Christine."

"Tonight." Christine smiled at the thought. "That means I'm performing! Oh dear, I must go tell them. I will see you after the performance."

She hurriedly ran out of the room, leaving Erik to his thoughts. He grinned and walked back through the mirror and into the dank passageway, knowing his plan couldn't fail.

* * *

**The End**


	5. What Love Really Means

_What Love Really Means_

_He cries in the corner where nobody sees  
He's the kid with the story  
No one would believe  
He prays every night  
"Dear God won't you please  
Could you send someone here  
Who will love me?"_

_Who will love me for me  
Not for what I have done  
Or what I will become  
Who will love me for me  
'Cause nobody has shown me what love  
What love really means_

_- What Love Really Means, JJ Heller_

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or the song What Love Really Means.**

**Thank you so much for reviewing, favoriting, and following.**

**This chapter is a little different. Instead of E/C, this is a short one-shot with little Erik, I hope you like it!**

* * *

**EPOV **

Peace. That was the only word that could describe this moment. Mother is gone, the house is silent, and I am alone. I run my bony hands over the top of the kitchen table to find the key to the living room. My hand adventured around until it came in contact with the cold, brass key. I snatched it off the table and bolted over to the locked door.

The wooden frame stood high above me, and the knob that would let me into the magical, forbidden place was only a few inches from my grasp. I pushed the key into the lock and swiftly turned it. I scanned the area before turning the handle and entering. No one was in sight.

There it was. That wondrous, beautiful thing. I was never allowed to touch it when mother is around, but now I could. I slipped over to it and laid my hand on the sleek instrument. I pushed down on the nearest key and let the sound echo through the room.

Silently, I climbed onto the wooden bench and pressed some more of the keys. Mother had once called this thing a piano, at least it has a name. I continued to tap out different melodies, entertaining myself in a different way. Normally I look from the window of my room and watch the people of the town pass by. My life has passed by with them.

I have only been alive for five years, but in those five years, I have only seen others from a distance. People who have a father, and brothers, and pets, toys, and a name.

"What are you doing!" My moment of joy was stopped by the voice of my mother.

She dropped her bag of items from the market and stormed over to me.

"I thought I told you downstairs was off limits!" She growled.

I cowered at her rage, and she picked me up by the back of my trousers.

"The attic is the only place for monsters." She told me as she dragged me up the stairs.

She tossed me into my room and slammed the door. I heard the sound of the door locking, and footsteps going back down the steps.

I crawled over to the corner of the room and hid in the corner of the small window. My eyes swelled with tears, and I let them pour out. I sat and cried, knowing I deserved to be punished. Don't all monsters deserve to be? I had disobeyed, but I was curious, so curious!

I drew back the curtain as I watched the people pass in the nearby streets. Snow gently fell through the air as winter was approaching. I wish that I could be a snowflake. They are all different, just like me.

People would pass, girls with large, porcelain dolls, and boys with their wooden trains. Then there were the people who I was most jealous of all.

There would be men and women, walking arm in arm, up and down the streets. They would sometimes lean in and press their lips on one another's, though I'm not sure why. I think it's called love. My heart aches at just the thought.

I had asked mother one time why people did this, she told me it was because of love. She then told me that no one could ever love me, for I am ugly. I am different. And different is bad.

Why did Mother have to hate me? Did I do something wrong? Even monster's mothers love them. I love her.

Is it too much to want somebody to love me? Mother doesn't love me, she told me herself. She even told me that _He_ doesn't even love me. I asked her who _He_ was, and she told me that _He_ is God. But, the book I found to read told me that _He_ loves everyone, even monsters.

The world is a big place, maybe the person who loves me is somewhere out there. Maybe, just maybe, _He_ could send me someone who will love me. Not for what I've done, what I look like, or what I'll become. Just, someone who will love me for me.

* * *

**The End**


	6. A Thousand Years

_A Thousand Years_

_Heart beats fast_  
_Colors and promises_  
_How to be brave?_  
_How can I love when I'm afraid to fall?_  
_But watching you stand alone,_  
_All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow._

_One step closer_

_I have died everyday waiting for you_  
_Darling, don't be afraid I have loved you_  
_For a thousand years_  
_I'll love you for a thousand more_

- A Thousand Years, Christina Perri

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or the song A Thousand Years.**

**Thank you so much for reviewing, following, and favoriting!**

**If you liked it, review!**

* * *

"Mama, I'm scared." Christine shakily told Mama Valerius as she fiddled with her veil.

"Child," Mama Valerius sighed, "you'll be fine."

"I...what if I mess up? What do I do then?" Christine worried.

"Calm yourself. It's not everyday one gets to marry an angel."

"Mama, I told you, he's not a real-"

"I know. I didn't mean the literal meaning."

Christine grabbed her adoptive mother's hand, and gripped it tight. Sweat dribbled from her forehead and Mama Valerius reached up to dab it off.

"You'll ruin your makeup if you keep sweating like that." She warned Christine.

Christine nodded and continued to pick at the lace on her dress. The gown was pure white, with lace covering the sides. Pearl beads lined the front and back, forming intricate designs as they flowed along the dress. The sleeves barely touched her wrists, but the layers of lace overlay went past her hands.

The clock chimed its bells, alerting them of the time.

"It's starting." Mama Valerius realized. She leaned over and pressed a kiss to Christine's cheek before entering the sanctuary to be seated.

Christine took a deep breath, preparing to walk in. There was really nothing to fear, but her heart pounded against her chest anyway.

All of her life she had dreamed of her wedding day. She dreamed that it would be a day of joy and her father would be standing next to her. But now, standing behind the two large wooden doors, she felt completely helpless.

The music started and her stomach dropped.

She pushed the doors open and stepped into the small sanctuary. There were only four people in the entire room, but she felt as if a thousand eyes were judgmentally staring at her. Her eyes glanced at them, Mama Valerius, the priest, and even the Daroga had come. But her heart nearly stopped at the sight of her fiancé.

Standing at the altar was Erik, dressed in black evening wear, awaiting Christine's arrival. But what surprised her most was that he wasn't wearing his mask. She beamed at him, proud of his bravery.

_If he can be brave, I can_, she thought. Erik's mouth curved into what Christine believed to be a smile at the sight of her. She took a deep breath and faced her future.

One step closer.

She slowly marched up to him, and he took her hand in his.

They said their vows, barely containing their joy the entire way through. Tears glistened in the old man's eyes as he listened to the couple's vows.

One was full of pure joy, promising love that could last a thousand years, while the other was about waiting the entire span their life for the other. The old priest sighed and looked between them before announcing the command they were all waiting for.

"Monsieur, you may now kiss your bride." He told the two.

Erik pulled Christine to him and lifted away her veil. She threw her arms around his neck as their lips met, and the world fell away. Time meant nothing to them, and they hardly noticed when the priest cleared his throat to break the kiss of the happy couple.

They realized the unnecessary urgency in their kiss and stopped. Christine blushed and quickly looked away, but Erik directed her attention back to him.

"I love you." Erik whispered.

Christine smiled and whispered back, "I love you too."

They kissed once again, but this time, the priest made no move to stop them. It was not everyday two angels found each other, and there was no doubt that their love would last a thousand years.

* * *

** The End**


	7. Come Little Children

_Come Little Children_

_Come little children_  
_I'll take thee away, into a land_  
_Of enchantment._

_Come little children_  
_The time's come to play!_  
_Here in my garden of shadows._

_- _Come Little Children, Hocus Pocus

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera.**

**Thank you so much for reviewing, following, and favoriting!**

**So, I was going to post this on Saturday, but because this is a Halloween chapter, I decided to post it today.**

**If you like this chapter, review. Happy (almost) Halloween! **

* * *

The rain fell down in sheets as a strange couple made their way through the dark streets of Paris.

"Erik, are we almost there?" The petite woman asked.

"Just a little while longer, Christine." The man who held her hand answered.

"I'm scared, we shouldn't be out here this late at night, especially not in this weather." Christine quickly halted, causing Erik to huff at her stubbornness.

"Christine, I will not put up with this nonsense! Now come along." He began walking again, attempting to fight the ever-growing wind that came along with the storm. Christine sighed and continued to trudge alongside the man in the mask.

A rusted gate came into view, and the two rushed towards it. Erik fumbled in his pocket to find the small golden key to unlock the gate. The wind howled around them, giving Christine ample reason to cower even more at the terrible storm. Erik unlocked the gate and pushed Christine in before himself, locking the gate when they were both safely through it.

Erik slammed the door to his former house, and lit the candle that stood on the wooden desk in the drawing room.

"Oh Erik," Christine gasped, as the state of the once beautiful room, hit her.

Green mold seemed to climb the walls and the carpeted floor oozed water when pressed. She hadn't been inside of Erik's old home beneath the Opera Garnier in eight years.

Erik gazed at the state of the room before turning to Christine.

"Well, what did you expect?" He casually brushed the mess out of his way to find his way into the hallway.

Christine picked up the skirt of her emerald dress and followed him through the waste pile of dead flowers and rotten delicacies, trying to keep up with her much more agile husband.

Erik skillfully made it into Christine's old bedroom and opened her door. Memories flooded his mind as he stepped into the pristine room. Her bed, having been left untouched for the past decade, was neatly made and the tiny watch on her night table still ran. He quietly stole over to the bathroom and grabbed two of the towels that had remained folded in her drawer.

"Erik?" Christine's voice piped up in the silence.

Erik turned, with the towels tucked under his arm, and met Christine at the door frame. He offered her a white towel with yellow flowers going up the middle, and she gladly took it. She wrung her golden hair out with it, and then wrapped it around herself like a shawl.

"Can we go home now?" She asked through her chattering teeth.

"Christine, when the storm blows over, we can go back home." Erik assured her as he patted himself dry.

The answer discouraged Christine, for she knew the storm was nowhere near done with its wrath. Christine wanted nothing more at the moment but to be in their little house, sitting on her husband's lap, and reading a book. But, no. She was stuck here until the rain calmed itself.

Christine maneuvered her way back out into the hallway, and tip-toed around the holes and debris in her way. The floor creaked under the pressure of her, and she jumped back at the sound.

"It's only the floor, it's only the floor." Christine reminded her ever so imaginative mind.

She walked until she came to the front door of the house on the lake. She opened it, and prepared herself for an even worse disaster than what was inside, but when her eyes opened, the shore and the lake looked exactly the same as she remembered it.

"How curious," Christine said under her breath.

She padded through the sodden mix of dirt and sand to get to the edge of the black water. She gently laid her towel on the shore and sat on it, close enough to the water that she could make small circles in the frigid water with her fingers.

"_Come little children, I'll take thee away, into a land of enchantment_." The voice of a woman floated through the air.

"Who- who's there?" Christine timidly asked the voice which she couldn't see.

Mist swirled through the water as the eerie voice sang out again, "_Come little children, I'll take thee away, into a land of enchantment._"

This time Christine inched closer to the water, careful not to disturb the song.

"Hello?" She called down into the murky water when the song was finished. "Is there someone down there? Do you need help?" She called once more, and her voice echoed of the walls.

The water swirled around and around and white writing could be seen on top of the black surface. It read one word: _Follow_.

Christine swallowed and scooted back, frightened of the sudden answer.

"_Follow sweet children, I'll show thee the way. Through all the pain, and the sorrows_." The enchanted voice sang again. Christine felt her legs go numb as the music overtook her. She dropped to her knees, and crawled nearer to the shore, obeying the strange music.

Fear creeped up inside of her, letting itself out in the form of tears. _Erik_, she thought, _I need Erik_. The voice, well aware of her tears, sang to her once more.

"_Weep not poor children, for life is this way. Murdering beauty and passions_." The female's voice rang out through the lake. Christine began to stick her arm in the water, but quickly pulled it out.

"Why should I believe you?" Christine protested. "I can't even-"

"_Hush now dear children it must be this way! To weary of life and deceptions._" The voice cut her off.

In that moment, Christine lurched forward into the water, almost as if something had pushed her. But she had needed no push, for she trusted the mystic voice without hesitation, although her instincts told her to do otherwise. She raised herself up from her knees and stood in the waist deep water.

"_Come little children, I'll show thee the way. Into a land of enchantment_." The voice repeated over and over as Christine ventured into to deeper water. The farther she pushed herself through the icy lake, the darker it got.

"Where are we going?" Christine whispered. Like before, white sticks floated up to the surface and delivered the message: _Have you not been listening_?

"Oh, yes." Christine nodded. The lake swirled around her, becoming faster every lap.

"Stop- please- stop!" Christine pleaded as her head spun along with the water.

"_Rest now my children, for soon we'll away, into the calm and the quiet_." The voice quietly sang as she watched her prey struggle to swim against the current.

"Help!" Christine cried, "Erik, help!" She cried out once again, but it was in vain, for no one could hear her.

Water rushed through her mouth as she attempted to stay above the whirlpool, and her eyes shut, for she couldn't bear to keep them open any longer. She sucked in one last breath, and then everything went black.

* * *

Erik pulled up the body, of who was once his beautiful Christine, and set her in his lap. He brushed back her golden hair and shook his head.

"Christine, I'm so sorry. This was all my fault, I should have warned you, I should have kept you with me." He apologized to the lifeless body on his arms.

"I should have remembered that the Siren was still active. I could have told to stay away, and not to listen to her." Erik cried. "Don't you know the consequences, Christine? Of course you don't. If you did you wouldn't have even came out here."

His mask began to slip off of his face due to his tears, and he let it come off. He caught it before it could hit Christine's face and set it down beside of him.

"The Siren is constantly needing someone to replace her, and now, Christine, you have." He hugged her tighter and allowed his tears to fall down her neck.

_"Come little children, I'll take thee away, into a land of enchantment_." A voice echoed through the room, but it was not the same voice his beloved had heard, a different one entirely. Christine's own voice floated through the air, singing the melody meant to hypnotize all those who aren't strong enough to fight it. And Erik wasn't even strong enough to fight the pull of his lover's voice.

"Wait for me, dear." He said as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"_Come little children, the time's come to play! Here in my garden of shadows_." She sung again. And this time, he obeyed.

* * *

The End


	8. Just a Kiss

_Just a Kiss_

_I've never opened up to anyone_  
_So hard to hold back when I'm holding you in my arms_  
_We don't need to rush this_  
_Let's just take it slow_

_Just a kiss on your lips in the moonlight_  
_Just a touch of the fire burning so bright_  
_No I don't want to mess this thing up_  
_I don't want to push too far_  
_Just a shot in the dark that you just might,_  
_Be the one I've been waiting for my whole life_  
_So baby I'm alright, with just a kiss goodnight._

_- Just a Kiss, Lady Antebellum_

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, or the song Just a Kiss.**

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following.**

**If you liked this chapter, don't forget to leave a review!**

* * *

"Erik?" Christine whispered in the dark as she stumbled through his room.

Erik quickly found a candle and lit it, immediately illuminating the room.

"Yes..." He replied back before noticing her state. Her eyes had dark circles under them, her nightdress was crinkled, and her hair was a mess.

"What happened?" He gasped as he ran to her side, pulling her close to him.

She shook her head before burying it into his chest. "It was horrible." She mumbled as her own arms wrapped around him. He brought his hand under her chin and raised it, so that she would be looking at him.

"Another nightmare?" He asked. She glanced away from him before telling him.

"It was horrid! There...there was a fire...and you...and I...and you were gone! You...I don't what happened, I was alone and..." She trailed off as she began to frantically cry into his chest.

"Shhh." He soothed her.

"I...I just need to get away. It scares me, Erik." She cried to him.

He gently unraveled their arms from each other, and took her hands in his.

"Do you wish to go outside? There isn't a cloud in the sky." He calmly suggested, to which she timidly nodded. He led her through their small house on the lake, and out the Rue Scribe. They continued to walk along with the light breeze that trailed along with summer nights. They reached the edge of the forest, one more step and they'd be in it. Erik turned, ready to go back, but Christine stopped him.

"Can we just stay here for a few minutes?" She asked, expecting a roaring _no_ in return. Instead, he simply nodded and pulled her down to sit on the grass with him.

"It is so peaceful out here." Christine commented as she crawled into Erik's lap.

Her arms found their way around his torso, and she rested her head on his shoulder. He smiled under his mask, wishing the moment would never end.

Christine slowly released herself from him and stood up.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked, standing up as well.

"Nothing." She whispered.

"Christine."

"Erik-" She cut off short, realizing her answer sounded incredibly stupid. "I don't know." She finally sighed. "I've been fighting it for a week, and I just-"

"You've been having nightmares all week?" He asked her, but she quickly shook her head.

"Can't you see?" She asked him, letting the tears rise to her eyes. "I've had this feeling that something's missing, Erik. But, I just cannot figure it out." She said miserably before going back into Erik's arms.

"Funny, I've been feeling the same way." He told her.

"You have?"

"Yes, but-"

"But what?"

"But nothing." He assured her before crushing her close to him.

She felt her lips press to his and her worry fell away. There was no forest, no nightmares, no world, just them. Trapped in their magical moment of bliss. Christine pulled away, shocked by the thought of what she had just done.

"I'm sorry." Erik quietly apologized. Christine looked back at him, the moonlight shining down upon them.

"Do it again." She ordered, to which he fully agreed.

They kissed again and Christine let her hand slip up through the front of his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons of his nightshirt. Erik paid no mind until he felt her hand upon him. He drew back, fastening his shirt back together as fast as he could.

"Maybe we should stop..." Erik suggested, but Christine didn't hear him, she just kissed him on the side of his mask and allowed him to pick her up and carry her back home.

They reached the house and Erik carried Christine to her bedroom. He entry laid her down on its white sheets before letting his hand run across her hair, smoothing it out. He quietly got up, careful not to wake the now sleeping Christine.

"Goodnight." He whispered in her ear.

He bent down and pressed his lips to her cheek. He lingered a moment longer before exiting through her door.

_Just a kiss goodnight_, the one thought echoed through his mind as he walked to his room and climbed into his own bed. His feelings of emptiness were gone, letting happiness abound.

* * *

The End


	9. I'm Not Who I Was

_I'm Not Who I Was_

_I wish you could see me now_  
_I wish I could show you how_  
_I'm not who I was_  
_I used to be mad at you_  
_A little on the hurt side too_  
_But I'm not who I was_

_I found my way around_  
_To forgiving you some time ago_  
_But I never got to tell you so..._

_I found us in a photograph_  
_I saw me and I had to laugh_  
_You know I'm not who I was_  
_You were there, you were right above me_  
_And I wondered if you ever loved me_  
_Just for who I was_

_When the pain came back again_  
_Like a bitter friend_  
_It was all that I could do_  
_To keep myself from blaming you_

_Thinking it's a funny thing_  
_Figured out I could sing_  
_Now I'm not who I was_

- I'm Not Who I Was, Brandon Heath

_**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera or the song I'm Not Who I Was.**_

_**Thank you for reviewing, following, and favoriting! It means a lot.**_

_**If you have a song that you would like to see a one shot set to, just leave your idea in a review. **_

* * *

"Erik, your shoes!" Christine squealed as she ran to meet her husband at their front door.

"What's wrong with them?" Erik asked her while taking his soaked coat off.

"They're filthy!" Christine scolded him as she bent down to unfasten them.

"What is all this fuss for, Christine?" He asked, taking his shoes off as he did.

Christine stood up and looked him straight in the eye.

"Erik, you know exactly why."

"Ah yes, the Daroga." He sighed, already annoyed by him, and he wasn't even in the room!

"Yes he'll be here in thirty minutes time, and- oh! I just cleaned there, and now your muddy shoes are making it dirty again!"

"If my shoes are making the mess, I'll clean it up. You go rest, and I will take care of it, all right?"

"Are you sure-" Christine began, but Erik cut her off.

"I'm positive."

"Thank you."

Christine kissed him on the side of his mask before running upstairs to their bedroom. Erik let out a large breath of air, turning to the mess on the floor. He shook his head, before rounding a corner into the kitchen. He grabbed the towel off of the side of the sink, and returned to the foyer.

He crouched down and began to wipe up the dirt.

"What a mess, did you make it?" A foreign voice sounded in his ear. He turned only to the Daroga standing behind him.

"Nadir, I swear-"

"Swear what?" He cut Erik off as he made his way into the living room. Erik threw down the towel and marched behind him.

"Would you like to explain to me exactly how you got in? I was by the front door the entire time." Erik questioned as he sat in the chair across from the sofa.

"I didn't come through the front door, I came through the window."

"Why-"

"Because, I know you Erik. And if you're anything like my memory tells me, both of those doors were probably rigged. Perhaps a rope, waiting catch you...or, or a bucket of tar ready to fall, or even one of your many mirror tricks!" Nadir explained.

Erik rolled his eyes and put his head in his hands.

"Does Daroga still think Erik is like that? He's different, _Christine_ has made him different. And the good kind of different too." Erik told Nadir.

"Christine hasn't made you anything!" Nadir shouted as he stood up, hos red hat nearly falling off in the process. "You are still the trickster you've always been, and nothing is ever going to change that."

"But she has, she _loves_ me!"

"Erik, listen to me. I don't know how you made her come here, I don't know why you insist that she loves you, I don't even know how you convinced her to marry you! But-"

"She made her own choice, that dreadful night. I let her go, and she came back! She kisses me every time I get home, and she sleeps in the same bed as I do. But, Daroga, _she_ made the choice to come back. If that isn't love I don't what is." Erik said, doing his very best to get Nadir to understand what he apparently couldn't comprehend.

The Daroga shook his head, not believing him.

"Why don't you understand that I'm changed. I'm not who I was."

* * *

Christine took a deep breath before turning the switch of the gas lamp, causing it to illuminate the musty room. She looked around the attic at all of the odds and ends that surrounded her. She stumbled through the mess of wooden boxes over to a deep purple trunk. She sat in front of it and ran her fingers over fingers latched around the lock of the trunk and pulled. When it wouldn't come loose, she sat back, thinking herself to be a fool for not remembering the key.

She dug her hand into the pocket of her house coat, and pulled out her ring of keys. She shoved the first one into the golden lock, but it wouldn't budge. She continued to test each key until she found it. A small brass key fit into the lock and she giggled with glee. She unlocked the trunk and threw open the lid.

Inside lay books and old dresses. Photo albums and small journals with entries from long ago. She smiled, letting nostalgia flood her thoughts. She picked up the first photo album and opened it to the first page. Her hand skimmed over the page that held the photograph and laughed. It was not a funny picture, but just the thought of why it had been made. She was sitting in a green, velvet chair, while her fiancé, at the time, stood behind her with a hand on her shoulder.

The Vicomte Raoul de Chagny had insisted that they should have photos taken of them for their wedding. Christine had tried to talk him down, but at the last minute gave in. While the photo was colorless, she remembered as if it had just happened. She had worn a yellow dress that came up to her chin, with lace spiraling down the dress. Her parasol had been a plain white one, that had belonged to Raoul's late mother. Raoul had been dressed in a black suit, with a hat. She laughed and put the book back.

That day had seemed like the calm before the storm. A week later they fell apart. She was captured, and he was almost drowned. When she was set free, Raoul took her home, but nothing was what it used to be. She left him without a proper goodbye, stealing away in the night to her only hope: Erik.

They had fled the next morning. They had tried many places, Germany, Italy, Spain, but now they were settled in London. Nadir had followed them through all of this, helping when help was needed, all over the course of six months. Erik had landed himself a job as an architect. Christine stayed home most of the time though, except in the rare occasion when she donned a stage name and would audition for the opera.

She closed the lid of the trunk, locked it and walked back to the front of the attic. A small desk was set up in the corner by the window and she walked over to it. She sat on the rusted stool that went with it, and grabbed a sheet of paper from one of the drawers. She thought for a moment, choosing her words wisely, before she started writing.

_Dearest Raoul,_

_ I'm not who I was..._

* * *

_The End_


End file.
